


Gas on Halo

by joondaes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joondaes/pseuds/joondaes
Summary: Kyungsoo's explanations do not make sense to Jongin, and the room smells like cigarette smoke and big trouble.





	Gas on Halo

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I know I haven't written and published a fic for a year, so I'm just gonna drop this PWP here.

It’s on the ten o’clock news.

 

The burnings in the Gangnam District have been reported on national television, and by now, the police are searching for the man they have been trying to capture for years.

 

Kai, the journalist states, standing before the smoke-filled apartment. As reported, the explosion has left five injured tenants. Firefighters are clogging the area while officials are trying to determine what triggered the blast. Bodies are being carried to the ambulances parked nearby. According to the chief inspector, three of them are of Chinese descent with ages ranging from early-forties to mid-fifties.

 

A list of names flashes on the screen. Kyungsoo switches off the television. Unsurprisingly, he is familiar with the people at the crime scene and has heard them once or twice from Kai. Or Jongin, rather.

 

For decades, Jongin’s family has been the forerunner of local mafia. With the extraordinary service of the consigliere appointed by the members, they have developed an efficient scheme that authorities have failed to figure out. At present, they are in control of various industries, from the flea market to large corporations where their profit emanates. They create all sorts of deals to finance and protect groups that have turned against the government. On a regular basis, they generate tons of cash. It’s a moneymaking business.

 

The door opens with a beep. Jongin trudges into the room quietly, not sparing Kyungsoo a glance. He stores his gun, silver with a short muzzle and a ribbed stock, inside the top drawer of the filing cabinet. He proceeds to the balcony, lighting a cigarette and blowing a puff in the air as he stares at the cityscape. Ah, he knows the streets full well, from East to West, from North to South. They are etched in Jongin's head, scored in deep like a rare work of art.

 

“The last time I checked, you stopped smoking six years ago,” Kyungsoo says as he snatches the stick of cigarette from Jongin’s lips. He throws it to the ground. “We need to talk.”

 

“Do we?” Jongin echoes, eyeing him. “Because I’m not in the fucking mood to talk.” He heads for the island counter to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

 

Kyungsoo stifles a groan. “The problem with you is that you do not communicate enough with me,” he argues, but it doesn’t warrant him a response from Jongin. “For a man who’s got at least ten subordinates rolling in blood money, you’re quite a terrible authority figure.” He marches toward him. “I’m not associated with Yifan. Why do you think I am?”

 

“You answer your question,” Jongin challenges, inching closer. “Listen carefully, Kyungsoo. You’ve managed to put everybody in danger because of your charades. Your intentions are not as pure as they seem to be. And that? That makes me angry.” There is a beat of silence. Jongin’s temper frays. “I don’t have time to play games with you, so I’m giving you two choices. Either you tell me what I want to know or I tie you down and tell me what I want to know.”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Kyungsoo’s voice raises a pitch.

 

“Not yet. You still have all your fingers, but that can be easily fixed.”

 

“I’m not afraid of you.”

 

Jongin remains unperturbed. He is almost smiling, as if something good were about to happen. His eyes are direct, not even blinking as much as the average person. “Then you’ve underestimated me,” he says point blank. “You do realize you’re in a territory fraught with danger, don’t you? I have very clear rules with very specific consequences, Kyungsoo. You break one. I break you.”

 

And there it is. Jongin often speaks of the clandestine business as if he is dealing with a bunch of second-graders at a daycare center. If there is a testament to the fact that he is running a dangerous job, it’s the Chinese con artist Huang Zitao. He remembers putting a bullet in Zitao’s knee and leaving him crippled and wheelchair-bound on the streets.

 

Apparently, Jongin is not the best person to cross paths with. At work, he holds no moral boundaries, no sense of right or wrong, good or bad.

 

Kyungsoo’s expression is stoic, but his heart is pounding fit to burst. He exhales. “Look, I get that you’re mad at me, but can you stop being such an asshole for a second?”

 

“Oh, I am the asshole?” Jongin scoffs in disgust. “Well, guess what? Fuck you.”

 

“I’ve made a mistake and I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo responds, sounding defeated. He notices the cut across Jongin’s cheek. “You got hurt.” He extends an arm and thumbs the spot in soft circles. Jongin winces at the touch. “What happened?”

 

“It’s none of your business,” Jongin says curtly. He saunters to the balcony and leans against the handrail. 

 

“I saw the news,” Kyungsoo supplies, then rifles through the filing cabinet, searching for the first aid kit. He joins Jongin. “Minseok was killed.”

 

Jongin looks at him. “You think I did it?” he sneers. “I don’t kill for a living, Kyungsoo. It doesn’t work that way.”

 

“You never tell me anything, how am I supposed to know?” Kyungsoo tears the packet of medicine.

 

“I’m not responsible for Minseok. He was a fraud, got what he deserved from the Chinese mobsters.” Jongin grimaces as Kyungsoo dabs a cotton on his wound. “I just had a fight with Sehun, that’s all.”

 

“And your father?”

 

“I’m taking over since he’s still on trial. Our enemies are framing him. They pay the media to fabricate evidence and falsify reports. But I will do what I can.”

 

Kyungsoo nods, saving his comment. “Yifan and I,” he starts after a while. “We were friends back in college. I told him to compromise. What happened to Yixing wasn’t entirely your fault. He didn’t believe me, said he would never forgive you, but promised he’d not let his men hurt me.” He gauges Jongin’s reaction, but it’s rather cold and passive. “I may be a terrible person but I’ve never thought of killing you in your sleep.”

 

There is a change in the atmosphere. “Do you really think I still trust you?” Jongin’s gaze lingers on him.

 

The question pierces ice cold into Kyungsoo’s chest. He gulps.

 

“Kyungsoo, you were out with the man who had tried to kill me several times.”

 

“It was a mistake.”

 

“Of course it was! You weren’t aware that the slip of your tongue could get you in trouble?”

 

“I was, but he kind of—“

 

“Steered the conversation?”

 

“Do you honestly believe that I met up with him because I was plotting against you? Or your family?”

 

“Did he steer the conversation?” Jongin repeats in a firmer tone.

 

“Yes, he did!” Kyungsoo barks, and Jongin’s expression dulls in response. "I fucked up, okay? I really did. I recognize the damage I’ve done and I know I owe you at least an apology. That is all I’m capable of. But it's useless because your ears are deaf to me. You only listen to yourself." Kyungsoo's throat constricts at how intense Jongin's eyes are peering right through him. He has been longing to confront him, and god forbid, he is in for a fight that doesn't even guarantee a winning streak. He composes himself.

 

The air is thick. Jongin's nerves are near the snapping point, but he doesn't waver and allows Kyungsoo to continue.

 

"You talk to me in riddles, it drives me crazy," Kyungsoo gripes. "You act like you're going through some sort of man period. On and off. Hot and cold. We've been together for years. What's making it hard for you to communicate with me? Like a normal person. Not like a dysfunctional human being."

 

There is a trace of restrained anger that crosses Jongin's face. "Stop lecturing me."

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t. And he will not. "You’ve molded yourself into the worst form because the truth scares you. You're a self-centered, cold-hearted bastard, Jongin, and you're not man enough to admit it."

 

That pulls the last string. By the looks of it, Kyungsoo is a step closer to death. He is expecting Jongin to punch him with the force of a thousand warthogs, but it doesn’t happen. In a space of a second, the few meters distance between them fades under the outdoor lights. Jongin grabs the back of Kyungsoo’s head where his fist curls into a ball.

 

“You talk too much,” he says, and before Kyungsoo can even resist, he feels a pair of soft lips pressing against his. Jongin lifts Kyungsoo’s body to the table arrayed in the middle of the balcony.

 

Kyungsoo hooks his legs around Jongin’s waist. The city, drenched in drizzle, vanishes, and for a moment, there is silence, the kind that needs no music, the kind that pirouettes in chaos.

 

Jongin’s hands are quick and deft that he manages to remove Kyungsoo’s shirt in less than a minute. Kyungsoo does the walk, shoving him onto the couch and climbing on top of him. He leans forward, caging him under, then lashes at the seam of Jongin’s lips. The kiss is almost too aggressive that he tries hard not to shift to a more comfortable position, but the urgency just makes it more deliciously visceral. Kyungsoo breathes at intervals, face flushed, and fuck does he look hot rubbing against him through layers of clothing while Jongin sits back, hands on the meat of Kyungsoo’s thighs, allowing him to take control.

 

Kyungsoo’s tongue traces Jongin’s neck and collarbone, making sure he doesn’t miss licking the path of soft skin, over muscle, over bone. He darts from mark to mark, suckling at the spot behind his ear. Jongin makes a strangled noise.

 

The warmth of Jongin’s arms around him is one of the things that Kyungsoo loves about him. There is also the feel of Jongin’s body draped over his, the filthy whispers in between kisses, and the way Jongin’s hands are all over him like a touch of fire that he cannot extinguish.

 

The wait is somewhere between sublime and agonizing. Kyungsoo continues to rock his hips, and before he can even shift to a different position, Jongin flips him over the couch. In a fraction of a second, he strips in front of him, popping each and every button of his dress shirt. There is the faint drop of clothes to the floor, then the heavy flap of a belt. Jongin pins Kyungsoo’s wrists and eyes him as if he is demanding an explanation.

 

“What are you doing, Kyungsoo?” Jongin asks. He sounds offended, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to snort at him. “You think you can have me the way you like?”

 

“Are we gonna fight?” Kyungsoo counters. “Or are we gonna fuck?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jongin says, shrugging. “I might consider fucking you.”

 

“Right here?” Kyungsoo taunts, moving his knee to Jongin’s erection.

 

Jongin is pissed, and horny. He grips and squeezes Kyungsoo’s wrists tighter just to remind him he is in power. “Yeah, right here,” he says. He grinds down and peppers kisses across the smooth plane of Kyungsoo’s chest, nuzzling the skin, then flicking the tip of his tongue over each nipple.

 

A hint of stubble that scrapes the peak of Kyungsoo’s shoulder. He shudders at the ticklish contact, flinching slightly as he beckons him to pause. But Jongin doesn’t. Instead, he wraps a hand around Kyungsoo’s cock, gathering the pre-cum to stroke it back, up and down. Kyungsoo is going crazy, wants Jongin to bend him in half and fuck him senseless, wants him so bad that he finds himself crying out Jongin’s name.

 

Jongin retreats and motions Kyungsoo to the ground. Kyungsoo doesn’t waste a second and kneels on the carpet, slotting himself between Jongin’s legs. He gives Jongin’s cock a squeeze, then puts the first few inches into his mouth.

 

It’s lewd magic. Jongin’s lips part at the sensation pooling in the pit of his stomach. He curses inwardly as Kyungsoo swallows him whole and quickens the pace. “Thought you wouldn’t shut up,” he says. “You’re going to be really good for me, aren’t you?” He grabs him by the jaw to keep him close. Kyungsoo sucks deeper, choking a little. Jongin’s hips jerk, and in a beat, he is fucking Kyungsoo’s mouth. He doesn’t go easy. And it feels amazing, too damn amazing, that Kyungsoo starts moaning around him.

 

It’s a cue. Kyungsoo withdraws, breathing heavily, then maps the veins on the length of Jongin’s cock with his tongue. He grips on the base and strokes it until he reaches the head and thumbs the slit. He thrusts it once, twice, as he drools for the pre-cum. He shoves it back in and out of his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, slow and steady. It’s a special kind of torture. But Jongin likes it, likes watching Kyungsoo’s pretty, plump lips wrapped around his cock.

 

“Come here.” Jongin invites him to the couch. Kyungsoo obliges, half aware of what he needs to do and what Jongin is about to do. “Move. There’s enough space.”

 

Frankly, Kyungsoo finds it ridiculous that he is acting like it’s the first time he has had sex with him. Well, at least in the living room, considering Jongin and him haven’t done it for weeks. But Kyungsoo isn’t the type to admit that.

 

Jongin pushes him down, almost too roughly, tipping Kyungsoo’s ass up and spreading the cheeks before thumbing the rim open. Kyungsoo groans into the cushion. “You look pretty like that, Kyungsoo,” Jongin teases. “Legs spread for me, begging me to fuck you.”

 

Kyungsoo is a mess. A beautiful mess. His hair is delightfully ruffled. His face is coated in a shade of crimson. His skin is littered with hickeys that he will have to hide for the next days. The thing is, whenever they have sex, it’s not always romantic. Sometimes it’s sweet and tender. Sometimes it’s harsh and rough. Regardless, both are deadly combinations.

 

He looks over Jongin who wrangles a bottle of lube from the chest of drawers and squeezes a glob of it over his palm. Jongin looms over and holds him in place. He crooks one finger and eases it inside, twisting a little, being gentle as he stretches the puckered hole. He gives it a couple seconds before he adds another, making it two, then three, prodding and gyrating and pressing knuckle deep, all at once.

 

“You like that?” Jongin doesn’t have to hear the answer.

 

At this point, Kyungsoo is too exerted to even argue with him. He mumbles something delirious as Jongin speeds up. He fucks himself back, desperate and panting, meeting Jongin’s fingers in each rut. It only takes a minute before he comes untouched all over the couch.

 

“What happened, Kyungsoo?” Jongin asks mockingly. “You were that easy?”

 

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo spats.

 

“Oh god, I wish I could.”

 

“You should,” Kyungsoo warns as he crawls on Jongin’s lap. He kisses him passionately, tongue slipping to and fro. “Wanna ride you, wanna make you feel good.”

 

“Well, that’s not your decision to make, is it?” Jongin says, cupping Kyungsoo’s cheek, staring at him in question. He raises an eyebrow.

 

“Baby, just sit back and watch me. I’ll do the rest.”

 

Slowly, he sinks down on Jongin’s cock, letting it breach in, clenching around him. He feels full. The aching stretch of his hole is still obvious. But he gets used to the position, adjusting to the size, until he finds a better angle. Then he moves faster, bounces up and down at a relatively natural pace, rolling his hips.

 

It's a smack of skin against skin. Jongin clutches onto Kyungsoo's hips, forcing him down, needing more, and goddamn, he cannot help himself. He gapes at the sight of Kyungsoo fucking himself, bouncing on his cock, eyes snapped shut. Jongin latches his mouth onto Kyungsoo's neck. He drags his teeth along the flesh where he scatters a trail of red marks.

 

The pressure on Jongin’s shoulder grows heavier. Kyungsoo continues to thrust himself down onto Jongin's length again and again while he tugs and jacks off his own cock, bringing himself to the edge. He slams harder onto Jongin.

 

"That's right, take me deeper," Jongin hisses, tousled and sweat-slicked, holding Kyungsoo's waist.

 

Jongin is close. In a matter of few more thrusts, he comes, arching his back, fitted underneath Kyungsoo’s body, coaxed into orgasm. It isn't long before Kyungsoo follows, shooting beads of cum all over his stomach. He falls forward to Jongin's chest, knees buckling and heart thrashing. Jongin snakes an arm around him, then presses a kiss on his damp hair.

 

Kyungsoo turns to him, still catching his breath. He caresses the underside of Jongin's jaw near his wound. "You know I'll never betray you. I wish you could still trust me."

 

"Quit it," Jongin chastises.

 

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?"

 

"No, I mean, quit talking, silly. It's my turn." Jongin eyes him. "Listen, it's difficult for me to share things, things that matter a lot to me. I'm not used to it. I see my problem. I don't want to, like, I just don't want to be soft. And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

 

Kyungsoo relaxes. "Are you kidding? You're not soft. You're the most dangerous person I've ever met." He chuckles softly. "But you protect me. Always."

 

Jongin breaks into a smile. "Yeah, always." He heaves a sigh. "Do me a favor and stay away from Yifan. He's treacherous. The man hates me, Kyungsoo, and that hatred can push him to do certain things you'll never imagine a person is capable of. It's hell out there. You’ve got to learn to be quiet until you're at the right moment to speak. Do you understand? I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

 

"It won't happen again," Kyungsoo promises, kissing Jongin briefly. "You have my word.” He kisses him again. “You have me. I'm all yours."

 

Jongin laughs at him.

 

"What's so funny?" Kyungsoo frowns.

 

"You know how to make a man happy."

 

"Ah, does it have something to do with what just happened minutes ago?"

 

"That's only a bonus."

**Author's Note:**

> For my soul sister Enca. Congrats on your graduation!


End file.
